twenty steps
by Rayye
Summary: Ronald Weasley. Lord Voldemort. It takes twenty steps to bring Ron to the Dark Lord. In which Ron becomes a Death Eater, and it is more or less explained why.
1. one

**one.**

March first nineteen eighty. The calm of the room was disturbed only be the wails of a small, pink bundle of flesh. Arthur Weasley smiled deeply, and Molly Weasley's eyes shone. But she was too tired to smile. One would think after five sons, the sixth would be easier. But, no. She was older now and much more exhaustible.

Ronald. It sounded like a smart name. A kind name. Maybe stubborn, but meaning well. And as all wizards knew, children grew into their names. It seemed strange at first, calling these miracles by the names given to them by parents. But after a few years, the children grew into their names.

Weasley. The first thing to emerge. The spots of red hair already peaking out on that rosy little scalp. A true Weasley. He would grow up just like his brothers, attend Hogwarts, find himself, get a job in the ministry. Well, maybe not. He would be himself. But a Weasley, nonetheless.

Ronald Weasley was put into his mothers arms by the Healer, who had looked after the birth. It had gone well. Molly had performed beautifully, with not a bit of help from magic. Seeing Molly exhausted, he left her and their new son with the Healer, and ushered his five boys out of the small room, to bring them home by floo.

He would visit his wife and baby the next day.


	2. two

**two.**

Eighteen years later, Ronald Bilius Weasley meant something else entirely.

Ronald. Traitor to the general public, the wizarding community.

Ronald. Megalomaniac to those who could get inside his head. Those who could understand him, know him. Know why he had to act this way- why he needed the attention. It made those people sick, knowing they could connect with a person so low.

Ronald. A defect. A defect or normalcy, of popularity- joiner to what is considered wrong.

Weasley. A disappointment. Dumbledore could have done something. Should have seen this coming. No one could stay in the shadows long. He only wished he had seen this sooner.

Weasley. A bad seed. A Slytherin inside. Much like the never-mention Weasley cousin, Mafalda.

Ronald Weasley. Molly and Arthur's bad, bad mistake. But they couldn't regret the earlier years.


	3. three

**three.**

As a soft, round baby, Ron was perfectly harmless.

Until the age of two, he slept in his parent's room in a small cradle, which had previously been used by each of the Weasley brothers. Except Percy. Percy had had his own cradle. That was sold to a family friend from the ministry when Percy turned three. The money was eventually used to buy Bill's school robes.

Each night, when Molly put her small son to bed, Ron would sing himself to sleep. He would sing songs he heard from his brothers, or the odd enchanted object that hummed to himself. He heard his great-great-great grandfather Weasley hum odd out-of-tune melodies from his portrait in the living room, sometimes. But mostly the little mind of Ron's came up with his own tunes to sing. Molly and Arthur would also fall asleep, listening to their baby boy humming off-key to himself.

Before Ron turned three, he was moved out of his cradle in his mum and dad's room, replace by his younger sister, Virginia Weasley.

Ronald shared a room with two of his brothers, Fred and George. The first night Ron slept there, he hummed a comforting tune to himself.

The second night, when Ron started to hum, Fred told him to shut up. George told him he was being a git, keeping them awake and all.

That was the last of Ron's quiet concerts.

A few years later, when Ron turned six, He was given his own room. It was a small room, at the tope of the house. Fifth landing near the attic. It would eventually be covered entirely in Quidditch posters of the Chudley Cannons.

And never, ever, would Ron sing to himself again.


	4. four

**four.**

By the time Ron was six, he knew enough to know that the Weasleys didn't have a lot of money. They didn't have enough money to get Bill, Charlie, or Percy the kind of school things they wanted. They complained a lot.

By the time Ron was eight, he knew enough to know that other wizarding families had a lot more money than they did. He resented them. He especially hated the Malfoys. His dad hated the Malfoys. He would come home from work at least a few times a week grumbling about them, and how Lucius Malfoy, whoever that was, got off with it. Whatever that meant.

By the time Ron was nine, he could make the connection that rich and wealthy people were greedy, mean and unliked. The Malfoys were very rich. Nobody liked them. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, had nothing. Everybody like him. And he was Ron's age. Why didn't everybody like Ron?

Ron decided that he should be rich one day.


	5. five

**five.**

Ron had been looking forward to the Christmas holidays for a long time now. Ever since Hallowe'en, when he heard about Fred and George dressing up as a toilet for the ball. He had wanted to know who was the back and who was the bowl. It turned out that they were neither. Both boys had stood in the bowl of the toilet, which had an open bottom for their feet.

And then came Christmas, like a shock to the senses of an unexpecting blind man. Except that Ron could see, which made the scene all the more heart stopping.

Ron decided that he liked the smell of Cinnamon, ginger, pine, and snow the best. Mixed together in the evening, with a cup of hot chocolate and a tale of Hogwarts from his brothers.

Percy argued that snow didn't have a scent. Bill added that neither did a story. Charlie said that the time of day didn't affect what anything smells like. Fred disagreed, and he suggested to Charlie to smell a body at dusk, which was killed at dawn, and get back to him on that one. George said they were ruining the holiday spirit, talking about rotting corpses and all. Ron just kept quiet, and soon the conversation headed in other directions.

Ron hated his brothers when they acted close-minded. He didn't see why he had to think the way everyone else did. But in a house of red-headed, hot tempered, and sharply witted tongues, Ron soon learned how to keep his imagination at bay.

* * *

**A/N: **A few reviews have commented that these chapters are too short. Yes, I know! twenty steps is going to be a short story when I've completed all twenty sections. I'll take out the chapters, and put the fic together. But for now, I want to be able to add what I can and post it - It makes me feel like I'm being productive!

Also, this is my first attempt at a disjointed ambiguous narrative, so bare with me! Hopefully it will all make sense in the end.


	6. six

**six.**

Corridors, hallways, compartments. Insignificance, dread, anticipation. Hogwarts Express, get off at Hogsmeade, travel by way of black whatever, on small wooden boats. A slow procession of lights. Another beginning. A new life. Hope.

But so quickly how the lights fade. Finding himself distinctly overshadowed by his new best friend. Harry Potter. It almost seemed like he didn't know just how famous he was- like he didn't understand the significance of defeating He-who-must-not-be-named. And soon Ron learned he actually didn't. But that wasn't to say the rest of the school did. Soon the red Weasley hair became a flash and blur beside The Boy Who Lived. Some learned to ignore it, others chose not to care. Sometimes Ron thought he had to jump and scream to be noticed. He tried it. And it worked, but the attention he received was quite expectedly not the kind he wanted, and his ears turned a bright red. That was the last time Ron jumped and screamed for attention- that year.


End file.
